


Save me from Myself

by Alphinss



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-15 08:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11227251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphinss/pseuds/Alphinss
Summary: After crashing and burning at the Sochi Grand Prix Final Yuuri decides he must tell his family about his true self. He doesn't want to stay hidden anymore. He tells them that he is gay. They do not take it well. Yuuri is kicked out of the house. Yet he is still determined to compete. He has pinned every hope and dream on it. He needs to win.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuuri looked to the rink. His eyes were hard and his posture stiff as he focused on nothing but the sound of the skates as they rushed against the ice. The Grand Prix skaters were the best in the world and Yuuri was here to compete with them for a second time. However, Yuuri was not the same man that had been sitting in this same spot a year ago. In that time, in the blink of an eye, his entire life had changed. He had come out to his parents, had finally, at the age of twenty-three, decided that he needed to be true to himself. They had not taken it well. Not well at all. He had been kicked out of the house within minutes. He had been forced to gather all his things and find his own way in the world. It was as though he had never existed in the first place. His family seemed to act as though they had no son. To them he was nothing.

Yuuri had gone to the only place that he could think. With a bag slung over his shoulder and his life crumbling around him, he had gone to Ice Castle Hasetsu. Dumping his bag in a locker Yuuri had jumped over the counter and grabbed some skates. He’d fastened them on quickly and then rushed onto the shimmering ice. Minutes passed quickly, hours soon following. Jump after jump, fall after fall, bruises upon bruises, until Yuuri couldn't stand anymore. He lay on the ice, panting. Suddenly all his emotions caught up with him. Tears began to trickle down his face and Yuuri could only squeeze his eyes shut, letting the shakes ripple through his body.

Yuuri hadn't know how long he had been lying there. However he was broken from his self pity as he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and a soothing voice whisper in his ears. Yuuko was there. Her gentle touch and soothing words only made Yuuri cry harder. It had taken Takeshi’s strong grip, to grab Yuuri off the ice. The man had placed his broken friend in the spare room. A room that had soon become Yuuri’s.

Yuuri had spent the next few months doing nothing more than skating. He had got up and skated till he couldn't stand. Eaten, skated some more and then fallen into a fitful sleep. He had lost a lot of weight and put on a lot of muscle. He wasn’t, however, healthy. He looked sickly, his skin far too pale and his entire body appearing fragile. Yuuko had set him straight, or, well, straighter. She had forced him into eating and sleeping regularly, as well as making him ‘earn his keep’. In reality she just wanted him to do something other than skating more intensely then she had ever seen anyone skate before. Therefore Yuuko had forced the young man to start teaching skating lessons to the younger students.

She had also secretly entered him into the ‘Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship’. The plane tickets had been booked and so had the hotel. However they were only for him. He had been the only competitor to enter without a coach, to go totally by himself. He had sat alone in the locker room, got dressed by himself and had finally beaten every single other competitor there by himself. He had beaten his own personal best score in the short programme, scoring 93.6. Everyone had been entranced, amazed, and yet Yuuri could only feel a deep ache in his very soul. A pain that he had attempted to demonstrate to the world through his skating.

That was how Yuuri ended up here. He was watching as Jean-Jacques Leroy, or JJ, as he skated across the ice to a song of his own creation. Yuuri stood as the performance ended. He was ready. This was his time. There was no-one to hold his hand, no-one to wish him luck. He stood alone. A skater all in black, his eyes hollow and filled with pain. He began. He felt music flow through him, the pain and the suffering flowing though him. His hardship was poured into every movement that he made. He let it flow through him, trying to show himself and the world that he was more than anyone could ever have guessed. He was worth more, he could do more. He was not someone that could be forgotten. He would make sure that the whole world knew his name. Yuuri stopped, his heart hammering in his chest, sweat dripping down his face. The crowd roared.

Yuuri sat alone in the Kiss and Cry. His hands fidgeted as waited for his score. 119.00 flashed up on the screen. Yuuri choked, he couldn't believe it. He was in first place, he had set a new world record. He had beaten the score of Viktor Nikiforov. He had done it. What the hell? Yuuri could no longer control himself. A wide smile appeared on his face and tears began to trickle down his face in waves. He had done it. Now he just had to get through tomorrow.

Yuuri ignored the reporters and the other skaters as he made his way to the locker rooms. He quickly got changed and made his way back toward the stadium to watch the final competitors. Viktor was on next and Yuuri desperately wanted to see then man that he had idolised for so many years. The man that had finally made him realise that he needed to accept himself. The man that he had just beaten. The man was beautiful. Each move delicate and gentle. However he could not embody Yuuri’s raw emotion. He score a respectable 114.36, placing him in second. In any other competition Viktor would have smashed the competition. However Yuuri was here, so it was not to be.

After watching the final act of the competition Yuuri had scurried away, back to his hotel. He had spent the evening running out his nerves, readying himself for the next day. He ran through the streets of Barcelona, enjoying the new sights that he could experience in the almost silent streets of the new city. It was nearing ten as Yuuri made his way back to the hotel lobby. Sweat still trickled down his face and his breath still coming in gasps as he made his way toward the lift.

“Katsuki” a voice yelled as Yuuri stepped into the lift. He ignored it. He didn't know anyone here well enough to want to talk to them. “KATSUKI!” Yuuri jumped as the voice appeared right behind him. He whirled around. The lift doors crept shut before the face of an angry Yuri Plisetsky. The boy’s blonde hair rushing around his face. He thrust his hand between the closing doors, forcing them back open. He strode forward and smashed Yuuri’s back into the wall of the lift.

“How dare you come back!” the boy yelled loudly. His voiced magnified by the enclosed space. “I told you that there’s only room for one Yuri. Why are you back here you fat little piggy” The fifteen year old yelled. His face was an angry red and he tightened his grip on the front of Yuuri’s shirt. However before the situation could escalate further the blonde was pulled back.

“Now now Yuri, no need for that is there.” another voice chimed in. Yuuri looked up, only to be met with the face of Viktor Nikiforov. He blushed, a light pink sheen glittering on his face. He quickly looked away from the sparkling blue eyes and shimmering silver hair.

“I can do whatever I want old man” the blonde barked out at the older skater before him.

“No. You can’t.” Viktor replied, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You have a competition tomorrow Yuri.” with that the silver haired skater pushed the young man from the lift, before letting the doors close as he shouted “Get some rest” through the gap. This left Yuuri and Viktor alone in the lift. Yuuri’s blush only increased as he realised his predicament.

“I’m sorry about Yuri. He’s a bit highly strung after only coming in third today.” Viktor said with a smile, tossing his hair in exasperation. “What floor are you on Katsuki?” he questioned.

“Umm…” Yuuri bumbled, his eyes flicking around the lift, looking anywhere but the man before him. “S-Sixth…?” he finally managed to get out. However it sounded more like a question than anything else. Viktor gave a binding smile and a nod as he pressed the button.

“I’m on seven” Viktor said. He gave another smile before he contained to try and make conversation. “Well done on your performance today. You seem like a different skater than the boy that preformed last year” he complimented. Yuuri blushed harder. His face was a bright red by this point, he didn't think he could feel anymore embarrassed.

Thankfully the door opened at that moment, showing the third floor. Yuuri quickly scurried out, running down the corridor as though the hounds of hell were on his heels. However as he left he heard a voice shout after him.

“Good luck tomorrow Katsuki.” Viktor yelled. Yuuri was wrong, his blush could get brighter. It did. He was afraid that he would burst a blood vessel in his face. He hurried back to his room and buried his face in his pillow, letting sleep take him. He needed to be rested for tomorrow and he wouldn't let Viktor Nikiforov knock him off his game.

* * *

The next morning loomed, Yuuri was up long before he needed to be, his nerves forcing him from the comfortable bed. He had gone for yet another run, attempting to sweat out the nerves. It hadn't worked. It seemed that Viktor Nikiforov had got into his head. Yuuri had not felt like this yesterday. However today every second that passed, the swirling in his stomach and the fuzziness in his head only increased. He couldn't seem to focus.

The morning passed in a blur. In the warm ups Yuuri avoided doing any jumps, knowing that if anything were to remotely knock his confidence now, he would not be able to get back up again. He would not be able to do any of his jumps. He would become the Yuuri of last year. A Yuuri that would fail. He could not let that happen. He ignored the other competitors. He didn't look at their scores or their sets. He only concentrated on himself.

Yuuri stepped onto the ice, his skate gliding perfectly along it. He let his regular breathing sooth him. He let the emotions within him rise. Let the feelings of rejection, loss and betrayal bubble beneath his skin. The music started. His performance began. The pace was fast, the jumps complex, each one perfect. That was until Yuuri’s eyes caught a flash of silver. Standing at the edge of the rink was Viktor. A smile lit up the man’s face. Yuuri faltered. For a second he was lost. He fell to the ice. However the impact was enough to snap him from his thoughts. He was back, but he felt different. The finale of his performance was nor what he had wanted. It was not what he had trained, it was not what he had wanted.

He finished. He was disappointed. He made his way to the Kiss and Cry with a scowl on his face. That had not gone how he had wanted it to. He had lost himself. He had lost the anger and the hate. The loneliness and heartbreak had disappeared as he saw the smile of the silver haired man. He had lost it. He had lost all of it. The scores came up on the screen. 197.80 flashed in a large bright display. It was good, a personal best. But it wasn't good enough. He knew it wasn't going to be good enough. He was never good enough. His parents were right. He was not worthy of existence.

Yuuri stood from the seat, rushing from the looks, the questions, the people. He did not want or deserve to be in their company. He couldn't do this. He ran from them, all of them. Yuuri spent the rest of the competition sitting in the bathroom, his phone clutched to his chest. He could hear the announcements through the speakers. He was right. He had not done enough. He was never going to be enough. Viktor had scored 204.30 in his free skate. He had been flawless according to the announcer. It was then that Yuuri had lost it. He had broken down in uncontrollable tears. Sobs violently ripping through him. He clung tighter to his phone. He wished that he had someone to call. He didn’t. He was alone.

After Yuuri had calmed himself he made his way back toward the rink. The award ceremony was sure to start soon. He needed to be there, he knew that. He may not want to, but he needed to. With his eyes still red and his face still flushed, he pulled on his skates and slid across the ice. However even as he stood by Viktor Nikiforov he could not be pulled out of his swirl of depression. This was it for him. He didn't know if he could go on.

Yuuri had pinned all his hopes and dreams on this final. He had needed to win this. He needed to prove to himself and everyone else that he was worth it. That he could be powerful and strong. So as the silver was placed around his neck he couldn't help but let a tear slip down his face. He came off the ice and ran. He ran back to the hotel without a word to anyone.

Yuuri fell to the bed, clutching at the soft toy poodle that sat there. He pulled it to his chest and let the tears and snot run down his face. He shook with every breath and pained moans escaped from his lips. He was worthless. He was nothing. How was it that he was so worthless? He didn't deserve to be alive anymore.

Yuuri picked himself off the bed after what could have been hours or seconds. He opened the doors to the balcony. He knew what he had to do. He stepped toward the railing that lined the balcony. He picked up one foot, placing it over the low barrier. It found a place on the small ledge, the other soon followed. He took a deep breath and looked down. Cars and people milled about the streets. They were oblivious to the imminent demise of the person above them. Yuuri lifted a foot. Keeping one hand on the railing he lent forward. He was ready. He closed his eyes. He was ready to let go.

However as soon as his hand left the rail, he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him, pulling him back. Yuuri snapped his eyes open and attempted to struggle away from the grasp of the person behind him. However the arms were too strong. They rapidly pulled him back over the railing, but they didn't let go.

“No, no, no!” Yuuri yelled. He was angry. He was so angry. He wanted to die. “Noooooo!” he yelled out again. However all the anger drained from him as heard the voice of the man behind him.

“Yuuri” a thick Russian accent choked out. “Yuuri” Quieter this time. Yuuri whimpered at the voice. Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Viktor? All he had wanted was to die in peace and now the one man that he never wanted to see again had saved him. He didn't understand. Yuuri could only sob as he was once again lifted from the floor and placed on the bed. He felt the pair of strong arms tighten around him. His body seemed to give up then. His eyes drooped shut and sleep claimed him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri woke with a jolt, his stomach lurching and filling with pain as his eyes just as quickly filled with tears. The faces of his parents as they told him he was an abomination, a disgrace, were still fresh in his mind. As he heard the whispered words swirl through his head, bile began to fill his throat. Yuuri threw himself from the bed and ran toward the bathroom. His hands clenched the cold porcelain bowl, his knuckles matching the white of it as he tightened his grip. Acidic liquid forced its way violently from his throat, the painful sounds echoing off the bathroom walls.

As always Yuuri continued this until his stomach was empty and then continued some more. He carried on until his throat was raw and there were tears and snot streaming down his face. However not all of this situation was like all the times before. This time there was something different.

As the last of the stomach acid forced its way up his throat Yuuri felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and soothing voice whisper in his ear. He tensed. However the hands and the voice only attempted to sooth him more.

“You’re okay Yuuri You’re okay” the voice soothed. A voice that Yuuri recognised. One that he had heard over speakers. One that he had listened to over and over from a distance. One that he had longed to hear directed at him for years. This was not, however, how he wanted to hear it now.

Through the fog of panic and pain Yuuri’s thoughts somehow became clear. He should not be here. Viktor should not be here. Yuuri had not wanted to wake up this morning. In fact he had never wanted to wake up again; so Yuuri pulled away. He dragged his tired limbs out of the grasp of the man behind him, even as said man began to protest.

Yuuri pushed himself up from the floor, using the sink to steady his already shaking hands. He turned to see a flop of silver hair and a pair of blue eyes that were looking at him in concern. However Yuuri did not want them there. For the first time in his existence he did not want to see Viktor before him. No. For the first time ever Yuuri was angry at his very presence.

“How dare you!” Yuuri yelled out. His throat was raw and his face pale. However the shock that was suddenly written on Viktor’s face was evidence enough that Yuuri was still a formidable figure. Yuuri’s cheeks flushed a vicious red as he saw not only shock but pity in the sparkle of blue.

“I didn't want to be saved.” He yelled out again. His voice stronger this time. “I still don’t want to be saved.” With that Yuuri began, on unsteady feet to make his way out of the bathroom. He pushed past the hands that attempted to steady him and instead, with purposeful steps he made his way toward the balcony.

“Yuuri” a voice called out gently. Yuuri ignored it. His legs continued to push him forward, slowly, across the floor. He was shaky, each step sending pain rippling through his body. The aftermath of the previous day was finally upon him. His muscles were stiff and his head pounded. However he was still intent on one thing. If he made his plans a reality, then within moments he would no longer feel pain. He’d never feel it ever again. Therefore he pushed through the momentary pain as he took another step forward.

“Yuuri” the voice called again. It was calm, gentle, soothing. It was a way he had not been spoken to in months, by a person that he had always wanted to be around. It was hard. Yuuri’s mind became fuzzy, his thoughts a jumble as his legs attempted to take him the few paces toward his destination. However his conflicted mind seemed to loose control of the straining muscles that held him in place.

As Yuuri made to step forward his legs gave way, his knees thudding to the carpeted floor. Shooting pains ran up the already aching knees and Yuuri let out a groan as his vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to regain some clarity. However before they reopened he felt a strong set of arms around him.

“Yuuri” was whispered again in a soft, almost wistful tone. Yuuri was picked up before being gently placed on the bed again, the arms still around him.

“Sleep Yuuri.” The accented voice commanded in hushed tones. “It’s only three in the morning Yuuri. Let’s get some more sleep” the accented voice soothed.

Yuuri’s head was heavy and as he listened to the soothing tones, his eyelids too became too much of a weight for him to bare. They flickered shut and Yuuri was once again dragged into the realms of oblivion.

* * *

Viktor Nikiforov was out of his depth. As he lay next to the lightly sleeping Yuuri his mind was a mess of conflicting emotions.Viktor was not the one that was there for people. He was not there to comfort those in need and he certainly was not the type to stop someone from attempting to kill themselves.

Viktor had friends of course; Chris, Yuri, Mila and Georgi. But they were all rink mates. The dynamic was different from a true friend. There were no one expectations in these relationships. They were ones of convenience; ones of practicality. There was nothing more to them than that.

There was Yakov, but Viktor was not sure that could be called a friendship. He respected the man, was willing to listen his criticisms and improve on them. However the relationship was between a coach and a student. He was not on equal footing with the man.

Of course Makkachin was a different matter altogether. But the relationship between a dog and their master was again another dynamic from that of a true friend. Viktor need not talk to Makkachin about feelings, or have meaningful discussions. No; in fact the dog was simply happy to see him. All Viktor needed to do to keep a good relationship with Makkachin was feed and walk them regularly. Of course the playing and the sleeping in the same bed were simply added benefits.

If Viktor actually thought about it, then he was sure that he had never had a friend. As a child all he had thought about was competing. Any spare time that he had spent outside the rink was spent with his tutors. Education and Skating had dominated his life from the age of four.

Viktor had never been close with his parents, the pair being estranged from one another, as well as from their son. Anton Nikiforov, an Architectural manager, spent his time traveling from country to country, leading projects that produced structural masterpieces. Zoya Egorov, newly named with the marriage to her equally new husband, had been close to Viktor in his early years. However at the age of four Viktor had been sent to boarding school and therefore lost almost all of the contact that he had once had with the beautiful woman.

With Viktor’s departure from the family home, it seemed that his mother was soon to follow. By Christmas it was clear that the woman was unhappy, the tension over the two week break between his father and mother, clear to even the four year old Viktor. By the summer of that year his parents had finished the processing of their divorce. The next Christmas had been spent in two different houses. As his birthday past it was clear that his sixth year of life was going to be very different.

Viktor’s first skating competition had been at the age of seven. Although he had been champing at the bit to be on the ice long before that. However, the school that he attended had not allowed him to do so, the policy being that the youngest competitor had to be at least six and above at the start of the school year. This meant that as Viktor’s birthday was during the Christmas holidays, that he had to wait nearly a whole extra year to compete.

Viktor had, of course, had his own coach that his father paid for just after he had turned five, after it had become apparent that he had a natural talent. His school, having a year round ice rink, had hired said coach with the money that Anton had provided. Viktor loved every minute of it. On the ice he felt so free.

Viktor had been massively exited for the competition, more so for his parents to see him skate.They had never seen him on the ice before. Of course he had all the gear, his parents attempting to outdo each other as they bought him more and more expensive skates, outfits and training clothing. However they had never seen him even seen him set foot into a rink before.

The competition was an under eights qualifiers, that would determine whether Viktor would be able to progress to the under eight regionals and then to the nationals. It was the most pressure that the boy had ever been under. He would be competing against twelve other young men ranging from the ages of seven to eight. Three of the competitors were from Viktor’s own school, the rest from others in the area.

As Viktor stepped out onto the ice he was unable to see his parents. However he knew that the school had sent out the invitations months ago. Viktor was sure that they must be sitting somewhere near the back. The rink was a big one after all and Viktor was very small. Viktor therefore stepped onto the ice and skated his heart out. He stepped off the ice knowing that he had done the best that he could. His smile was wide and his breath harsh as he was engulfed in a hug by his coach. The scores were released and Viktor was overjoyed. It seemed that he had won. It was the start of a winning streak that would seem to follow him through the rest of his career.

Although, as the tournament ended and Viktor clutched the trophy that he had received tightly to his chest, it seemed that disappointment would also be something that followed him. He waited and waited, his coach standing next to him as the stands cleared. His eyes sparkled with joy as he looked for his parents. However as the last of the spectators cleared the glee turned to sorrow. It seemed that his parents were not there.

It was then that Viktor made a decision, although he would not become actively aware that he had made it for many years. Surprise. That was his decision. He would surprise everyone. That was the moment where Viktor’s skating became something that he needed rather than something that he wanted. He needed to suppose everyone with every aspect of his skating. Viktor grew out his hair, wore outfits that were unconventional and attempted harder and harder routines. Maybe if he surprised everyone then he would be surprised himself. Maybe his parents would come and watch him. However they never did. Neither Viktor’s mother or father had ever seen him skate. Even as he won gold at the national championships and then the gold at the Olympics, they always made their excuses.

It was clear to Viktor that the reason for his detachment from people was the estrangement from his parents. He felt that if he made too much of an emotional connection to someone, then he would be let down. Even the few partners that Viktor had been with had been short relationships, none lasting more than a few months. However as Viktor lay there, Yuuri in his arms he realised that he was starting to rethink his ideas on relationships.

Ever since he had seen Yuuri at the last years Grand Prix final he had found himself interested in the young man. Even as he crashed and burned there was still the definite sparkle of potential in his moves. That potential had been realised as the young man had made his way up through the competition at a rapid rate this season, beating Viktor’s own record on the short programme. Viktor had decided that after seeing the beauty of the young man’s performance that he should invite him to the after party.

Viktor had asked for Yuuri’s room number at reception and then made his way up to Yuuri’s room. The young man had seemed upset and Viktor wanted to ensure that the Japanese skater felt welcome. Viktor had reached the door and let his knuckles rap lightly on the wood. However as he did so the door creaked open by itself. It seemed that Yuuri had left the door open.

As Viktor stepped into the room, his eyes were immediately drawn to the open window. He saw Yuuri standing on the ledge. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he sprinted toward the precariously placed Yuuri. He didn't think he'd ever moved so quickly in his life as he pulled Yuuri back from the edge.

As he had pulled the young skater into the bed he had never felt more scared. He had never been so close to the death of another. No one that he knew had ever died, let alone someone that he had a chance of caring about.

So as, for the second time in that day, Viktor prevented the suicide of Yuuri Katsuki, he let himself look at the sleeping face of the man that was still in his arms. He found himself wondering what was going to happen next. He seemed to have made a step, well a leap, into this young man’s life. Viktor was really not sure whether he was ready for that. However as he looked at the sleeping face he realised that he would have to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri woke up to a noise blaring in his ear. With a groan he attempted to sit up to turn off the noise that was shattering the peace of the room. However he was prevented from doing so. A pair of arm were wrapped tightly around his waist preventing any attempts he may make at sitting up. Yuri let out a groan at the predicament; his eyes still fuzzy with sleep. An echoing groan was heard from the body behind him. One of the arms loosened before stretching over to turn grab the phone that vibrated on the bedside table.

“Hello?” a groggy voice questioned into the phone.

“Viktor where the hell are you!” a voice shouted, audible to even Yuri’s ears. However the voice was in Russian and so Yuuri could pick up only a few words. The voice continued. “We need to leave to catch our flight in half an hour, Viktor and you are not in your room.” The voice sounded angry and frustrated.

Yuuri began to squirm out of the man’s hold as he remembered the events of the previous evening. However it was as though he were viewing them from the perspective of an observer. As though his entire being was no longer there. As though what had made him, him had vanished. He felt numb. The emotions that had plagued him yesterday had seemingly faded, leaving nothing but an empty void. He was not sure if he still wanted to die. In fact he was not sure of anything anymore.

“Yes, yes Yakov, I understand.” Viktor also spoke in Russian. He tightened his spare arm around the squirming Yuuri and ran his fingers soothingly along the younger man’s arm.

“But I need you to book another seat on the plane.” Victor’s voice was totally nonchalant as he spoke. Yakov’s response was less than welcoming.

“What the fuck are you talking about Viktor?”

“Do it Yakov or I’m going to stay here for the foreseeable future.”

“Viktor, what the-“ The voice was angry. Viktor hung up.

Viktor turned back to the young man that was still in his arms. He had stopped struggling as the fingers gently ran over his arm. Viktor sat up, puling the younger man with him. Yuuri’s back was pressed firmly against Viktor’s chest.

“Are you alright there Yuuri?” Viktor’s voice was soothing as he ran he gently ran his hands along the young man’s sides and arms. “Well, I suppose that’s not the right question…but are you feeling a little better?”

“I…I don’t know. I feel…I feel empty. Feel numb.” Viktor nodded into the clothed back.

“Well, that’s understandable. I think that you should have a shower and then we can get packed.”

Yuuri whipped around, his eyes filled with confusion and suspicion. He pulled himself from the man’s arm so that he could look him in the face.

“Packed?” he narrowed his eyes, as his eyebrows were pulled down into a frown. “What do you mean?” Viktor let out a sigh and stared directly into the young man’s brown eyes.

“I’ve got you a ticket on my flight back to Russia.” Viktor’s voice was chirpy and filled with optimism. “I want you to come back to Russia with me. I want you to live with me and train in my rink. I want you to fight like you did this year. I want you to beat me Yuri.”

Yuuri looked at Viktor with wide eyes. The words didn’t seem to hit him. Viktor wanted him to come to Russia with him. He wanted to give him a place to live, maybe even a home? It was not something that Yuuri had had in quite a while.

“I…I…” Yuuri looked away in shame. “You wouldn’t want me if you really knew. You…you wouldn’t want to look at me.” Yuuri shuffled away from Viktor. The thoughts of revulsion began to resurface. He was so disgusting. He was an abomination. He failed at everything that he did. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Why is that Yuuri? Please tell me, I want to understand.” The voice was gentle. It only furthered to anger Yuuri more. He was too horrible for such words. He didn’t deserve them.

“I’m disgusting Viktor. I’m…I’m gay.” Yuuri spat out the word as though to was a curse. He pushed himself to stand as he spoke. He felt his skin itch; disguised by the very skin on his body. He was horrifying.Now Viktor would realise it too and let him kill himself in peace.

Viktor stood up to Yuuri’s level. He gently took his face in his hand, eyes forcing Yuuri’s to look at his. The look was gentle and soothing. Viktor’s face edged closer and closer until Yuuri could feel Viktor’s breath, hot on his cheek.

“So am I.” was whispered so quietly that Yuuri almost didn’t hear it. However he certainly felt the set of lips that were on his. The kiss was gentle. It demanded nothing but told everything. Yuuri’s eyes closed without his consent. The kiss was his first and it felt, well it felt perfect.

Yuuri’s hands came up to grip Viktor’s waist, his hands pulling the man closer without even thinking about it. Viktor’s arms wrapped their way tightly around Yuuri’s waist; his own eyes having fluttered shut moments ago.

Viktor broke from the kiss, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked at the flush on Yuuri’s cheeks. He gave a small smile to the now nervous looking young man before him. At least he wasn’t upset now, Viktor thought. He didn’t like to see his Yuuri sad. He blinked. His Yuuri. That sounded nice.

“So” Viktor purred as he let his fingers gently run along Yuuri’s face. “Will you come to Russia with me?”

Yuuri nodded. Too stunned for words.

* * *

It was a wonder that they made it onto the flight. It was a near miracle that they made it there without Yakov’s head exploding. Viktor was sure that when he saw the grip that Viktor had on Yuuri’s hand that the man would loose it. But he simply glared as his face got redder and redder. Yet he didn’t say a word.

Yuuri was now sitting next to Viktor on the flight. The man was asleep and now Yuuri was starting to worry. It might be the case that Viktor had kissed him, but what if it had only been to prove a point? He had been holding his hand but was it only to keep him from running? Did Yuuri even deserve to be with someone like Viktor? The man was everything he was not.

Viktor was smart, famous and a world renowned skater. He was beautiful both on and off the ice. He was so much more than Yuuri could ever hope to be. He was everything Yuuri was nothing. Yuuri’s head sank; resting on his hands as it set between his knees. His breathing became rapid as his chest seemed to tighten. A feeling of terror gripped him and his legs felt shaky. If he was standing he knew he would have collapsed. Sweat seemed to poor down his back and his heart hammered faster than he thought possible. He knew a panic attack when he felt one, but his brain was fuzzy and his head pounding. He didn’t know how to calm down, he could calm down.

“Yuuri” the voice was soft. Viktor stood and knelt down before Yuuri’s seat. This was one of the advantages of being in first class. There was lots of room for such occurrences as this.

“Hey, you’re alright Yuuri, you’re alright.” Viktor ignored the looks that he received from Yuri and Yakov across the isle. Instead he took the panicking young man’s face in his hands.

“Breath in…then out…then in. There we go, that’s it. Keep breathing for me zvezda moya” He knew that would raise an eyebrow from the pair across the isle. He didn’t care.

“There we go, it’s alright. Breath in…then out.”

Yuuri’s breathing finally levelled out, his heart returning to a more regular rhythm.

“There we are, that’s better.” Viktor whipped the tears that had leaked from Yuuri’s eyes during the panic attack. Viktor took Yuuri’s hand in his before sitting back in his seat.

“Do you want to explain it to me Yuuri?” Viktor soothed.

“I-I” Yuuri took a breath. “I’m not good enough for you” he whispered. “You…you won’t want me.” He squeezed his eyes shut. Viktor squeezed the hand tighter. The other he used to take the younger man’s chin in his hand. He pressed a gentle kiss to the young man’s forehead.

“I do want you Yuuri. You’re beautiful.” Viktor kissed one of the still closed eyelids, then the other. “I’m not good with words or with people crying Yuuri, but…well I do want you Yuuri.” Yuuri opened his eyes. He looked into the blue of Viktor’s.

“Don’t let go of my hand.” Yuuri whispered. Viktor tightened his grip.

“I won’t. I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

Epilogue:

It had been twelve months since Yuuri had moved to St Petersburg with Viktor. He had barely interacted with anyone else within the skating community over that time. Other than those that he trained with at Yakov’s rink, of course. Yuuri had been skating with Yuri Plisetsky and Georgi Popovich with the occasional appearance of Mila Babicheva, however she would mostly just tease Yuri about how short he was. Yuuri enjoyed the pleasant atmosphere. He hadn’t realised how much he had missed having rink mates until he had them back again.

That’s not to say that he found interacting with them easy. It had taken Yuuri two months after arriving in Russia before he had felt comfortable to say more than a few words to the two men that he had shared the ice with. He had spent his time with Viktor, planning his new routine. The man had been Yuuri’s anchor. Yuuri knew that he would have not survived those first months without Viktor’s constant support.

Yuuri had only broken his silence to Yuri and Georgi after the young blonde had caught Yuuri on a less than great day. He had been stress eating at the only Japanese restaurant that he had been able to find in the area near Viktor’s apartment; Katsudon, of course. It was not as good as the one that his mum used to make; not that he wanted to be reminded of the woman that had rejected him. But the food was hitting the spot. Viktor had a photoshoot for the upcoming season and as it was the one day off a week that the skaters got off from Yakov’s regime.

The young blonde had seen Yuuri through the shop window. Scowl on his face, he had marched into the room with a vicious scowl on his face.

“What are you doing? The season is starting soon. What the hell are you…what is that?” Yuri scowled as he looked at the half eaten bowl before Yuuri. “It looks like its made entirely of fat. Is that why you are eating it, you fat piggy?!”

Yuuri gave a small scowl to the younger man with the same name. He knew that he shouldn’t be eating it but why did Yuri care. Instead of responding to the insults that the other Yuri was still throwing at him he picked up the bowl that still sat before him.

“Try it” Yuuri said quietly to the blonde.

“What?” Yuri was broken from his rant as he stared at the older man with his name.

Yuuri simply pushed the bowl across the table and indicated to the spare seat across from him.

“Try it,” he repeated.

Yuri sat down slowly looking from Yuuri to the bowl in front of him. He clumsily grasped the chopsticks in his hands and picked up the bowl. He took slurp of the food and then looked up with wide eyes at the man before him.

“What is that Piggy? It’s delicious.”

“It’s Katsudon” Yuuri smiled at the younger Yuri “You like it then?”

After that the two had had a rather pleasant relationship. On their days off, Yuuri would often take Yuri to various Japanese restaurants and Yuri would take him to some Russian ones. Of course, this was only when Viktor had other things to do. Yuri refused to be seen out with ‘the old man’ as he insisted on calling Viktor.

However as the season had begun both Yuri and Yuuri had been rather preoccupied with their competitions. However the pair had attended different qualifiers, just as Viktor had. Yuri had attended Skate Canada and Trophée de France. He had won a gold in France and been nearly incandescent with rage as he received a Silver against JJ.  

Yuuri had attended the Cup of China and the NHK trophy. Whereas Viktor had attended the Rostelecom Cup and Eric Lumbard. They had managed to still maintain the facade that the two barely knew each other. Yuuri was not ready to come out to the world as the thief that stole Victor Nikiforov from them.

However, both Yuuri and Viktor had been there to congratulate their partner at the two golds that they had each won. Yet, other than his brief talks with Viktor after the match he had utterly avoided all media and any contact with the other skaters within the community. Even though it had only been two months since the qualifiers, Yuuri would have not been able to talk to the others back then. Yuuri supposed that the ring on his finger had something to do with that.

Yuuri himself had change; a lot. He was nothing like the young man that had boarded the plane with Viktor. He was totally different now. It had taken a long time and it had not been easy by any stretch of the imagination, but Yuuri was getting there. He had a strong base of support; people that accepted him for who he was now.

Yuri may be a little shit at times, but he had seen Yuuri’s performances and he respected him as a skater and dare Yuuri say it, saw him as a friend. Yakov, after some convincing, had become Yuuri’s coach along with the other skaters. His no-shit attitude meant that Yuuri either had to sink or swim in his classes. It had helped him overcome some of the self doubt that had plagued him for so long. He realised he could swim and swim well at that. The councillor that Yuuri had been seeing once a week had also helped significantly in that endeavour.

However the person that had helped Yuuri the most was Viktor. The man was the anchor that kept his ship from being tossed into the raging sea. That was how he found himself now standing hand in hand with the man walking into the foyer of the CCIB where this years Grand Prix was to be held. They both ignored the flashes cameras that followed them; they assumed the pictures to be all over the internet within the hour.

They spent their time in the changing rooms, preparing for the days events. It seemed that they had arrived before any of the other skaters. Yuuri was relieved. Yuuri was the first skater of the day and he needed somewhere private to warm up. Private with Viktor of course. Viktor was the fourth to compete today leaving him enough time to finish his own warm up and assist with Yuuri’s. The two retreated to the underground carpark; avoiding contact with others.

Yuuri felt slightly bad for denying Viktor time to mingle with the other competitors. However the man was his. He knew it was selfish but after a year together and the gold band that Viktor had accepted onto his finger was proof of that. The man had accepted the burden that was himself the moment he had opened that hotel door. Yuuri would do anything for the man before him and knew that the same rang true for Viktor. He was never letting go of the man.

Yuuri stood by the side of the rink. They had done their warm up and now it was him. It was his turn to show the world what he was made of. Now that he was here with Viktor nothing else mattered. The man before him would watch every step. Every move. Yuuri would make him. He would not be able to look away.

He skated onto the ice; standing at its centre. The gentle sound of Elvis Presley’s Can't Help Falling In Love came though the speakers. Yuuri smiled. It was filled with longing, sincerity and devotion. His eyes pinned the man standing at barrier. He skated.   
He was moving like he had never done so before. Every move was for Viktor. Every one a declaration of love to the man before him. His jumps were perfection; each movement seeming to flow like a stream. Never wavering of faltering; nothing more than beauty and love.

He stopped. His final pose one of seduction as he panted rapidly. Sweat dripped down his face as he attempted to regain his breath. The crowd froze. None of them had ever seen anything like that. Then chaos broke loose. Things were flung onto the ice and the applause was deafening. Yuri grinned; his eyes pinned to Viktor.

He had to get to him. Yuuri threw himself across the ice toward the man, his fiancé, who was waiting at the side of the rink. Yuuri threw himself into the man’s arms and pulled him closer than he thought possible. He just couldn’t let go of him.

“I love you” he whispered.

Viktor looked down at his fiancé, adoration and love clear in his eyes.

“I love you too. You’re so beautiful.”

Viktor pulled up his fiancé’s chin and his lips quickly engulfed his fiancé in a kiss more passionate than most had ever seen. This was his Yuuri. They belonged to each other. They were made for each other. The man before him, was so perfect.

Cameras flashed faster than seemed possible. It seemed that in a second, the two had changed the face of Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki forever.

* * *

Viktor took Yuuri’s hand in his and pulled him toward the tipsy group of figure skaters that littered the dance floor.

“No Viktor” Yuuri whispered averting his gaze. “I can’t…there’s too many people.”

Viktor gave a wide grin to his fiancé. He used his free hand to pull up Yuuri’s chin forcing his eyes to his. Viktor leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips to those in front of his. One hand dropped from Yuuri’s and pulled the younger man closer to him as the kiss continued.

His other hand gently caressed his fiancé’s cheek as he released the perfect lips. His head came forward, his breath hot on Yuuri’s ear.

“Just keep your eyes on me” Viktor whispered seductively “and dance.” His smile was brilliant as he once again attempted to pull Yuuri onto the dance floor. This time there was no resistance. Yuuri kept his eyes fixed on Viktor’s. Viktor returned the attention. The two seemed to loose the world around them.

“So those two really are a couple?” Chris asked the question that was on all of their lips as they all watched, entranced at the couple before them.

Yuri gave a huff of disgust as he watched the two before him. This was the first of these gatherings that he had been allowed to. Yakov had stopped him from drinking the champagne and now here were these two love sick fools further ruining his night.

“Well, of course. Plus it’s them, how else are the two going to spend the night before their wedding? They’re sickening” Yuuri sneered. Chris looked to the bronze medalist with shock on his face.

“Yuri…what? What do you mean? Married?” The man was, for the first time, almost speechless.

“Well yeah, Yuuri won gold.” The Russian Punk walked off toward the buffet table, as though his words explained everything. Chris, along with the rest of the skaters around him watched the young Russian go with a dumbfounded look, before looking back to the lovestruck couple that were still dancing; looking at only each other. 


End file.
